


Disco Inferno

by makapedia



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Birthday Party, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makapedia/pseuds/makapedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul and Maka's baby girl turns one, and Wes thinks it's a little ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disco Inferno

It was probably the poofiest dress Wes had ever seen.

Somewhere underneath all those layers of chiffon and poof was a bright-eyed baby, with her blonde hair tied up with ribbons. He could see her face, soft cheeks pink and blue eyes vibrant with the same sort of curious wonderment that all babies seemed to possess, but everything else – her legs, especially – was overshadowed by intense floof of the dress.

It was the absolute cutest thing. He snuck a kiss onto her pudgy cheek and bounced her on his hip. Clumsy baby hands patted at his chest and she giggled softly.

“Now where did your daddy go?” he wondered. She did a little wiggle and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “What do you think? Should we go find him?”

She reached a hand out towards the kitchen, and Wes knew that his niece was a smart little thing. He knew he could thank both his sister-in-law  _and_  his brother for that – Maka was brilliant and her brain must’ve been at least a little bit hereditary, but Soul had read every book under the sun about raising children in preparation for her birth.

It was adorable, really – as a kid, Soul was lazy and hesitant, but as a parent he was gung ho about getting the right temperature for her bottles and making sure she was the best dressed baby in town. It was a miracle what a happy setting and a little self worth could do to a guy; it brought a warmth to his chest and a hint of a nostalgic ache.

His little brother really was growing up. He wasn’t the same sad kid slouching over his piano anymore – the baby shyly smooshing her face against his arm was proof of that.

“Come on,” he mused. “Let’s go find your dad.”

He ambled his way into the kitchen, baby on his hip, and watched Tsubaki and Maka set the table while Black*Star sat on the counter and tossed streamers into the air. A roll of pink knocked into the table and clocked his partner in the head; he howled out an apology and chortled. Tsubaki smothered a little grin and tossed the roll right back at him.

Maka looked up from setting down the tubs of ice cream. “Wes! She hasn’t spit up on her dress yet, has she?”

He held Melody out at arms length and squinted, mock inspecting the damage. “Hm… no, Soul’s sweet baby angel is still pristine.”

“That guy,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Your brother is going to drive me crazy, I swear to Death.”

“Hey, I didn’t chose to have a little brother.  _You_  married him.”

She stuck her tongue out and he laughed. It was all in good fun – they both knew that their lives would be a lot emptier without Soul’s brooding and Soul’s antics. Maybe Melody knew too, because she fussed a little and wiggled against his arm, tiny lips pulled into a huffy pout.

“Uh oh,” he sang. “ _Somebody’s_  getting anxious.”

He fully expected Maka to walk over and take back her baby girl, but it was Soul that wedged between them, slipped his hands under her arms and brought her in for kisses and raspberry against her cheeks. She squealed and giggled, surprised, and Soul grinned widely, teeth glinting.

“Uuuugh, Dadzilla!” Black*Star groaned. “Gross. Go goop over your kiddo somewhere else, you’re mucking up my decorating.”

“You’re turning my kitchen into a death trap,” Maka deadpanned.

“An awesome one – it’s a _maze!_  Mel will appreciate it. You have no taste.”

“Oh my god. She’s  _one_.”

“ _AND THREE DAYS_ ,” he insisted. Tsubaki set a hand on his shoulder and confiscated the last ball of pink streamers, chastising him lightly. He hopped off of the counter and marched out, chanting something about balloons, and Maka looked like she’d seen a ghost. Or a  _god_.

Wes did a shuffle step in the entryway. “Should I go after him?” he asked aloud; he was afraid that if someone didn’t step in, Maka might end up locking her childhood best friend out of the house and unwittingly starting World War Baby.

“No, no, it’s okay!” Tsubaki insisted. “He’s just trying to help. He likes to feel important. If he has something to do, he won’t attack the frosting until after she’s blown the candles out.”

“Not  _his_ kid’s birthday,” Soul pouted, lips buried in his daughter’s bangs. His hand smoothed down the back of her dress and he bounced her in his arms, earning himself a little squeal and pudgy baby hands patting at his jaw.

Maka rolled her eyes and kissed the side of her partner’s face. “Don’t be jealous just because Mel never fusses when he feeds her. She loves you the most, Soul.”

“Not jealous,” he huffed.

She might’ve said more, but the doorbell rang before she had the chance and she shot a glance over her shoulder, effectively slapping Wes with the whooshing curtain of her hair. She apologized quietly and he shook his head. “I think that’s Papa,” she realized. “Either it’s Papa or the caterers are back. You didn’t order  _another_ cake, did you Soul?”

All eyes were on the scythe; he pressed another kiss to the baby’s forehead and chuffed irritably. Wes raised a brow and Tsubaki giggled quietly.

“I just wanted you to relax,” he grumbled. “Just tryin’ to help.”

Maka flicked his shoulder and scurried down the hall, her simple party dress fluttering against her thighs. Wes did not miss the way his brother watched her walk, nor did he miss the chance to grin at him and nudge his shoulder.

He scowled, teeth bared. It didn’t have the desired effect due to the baby puff nestled against his chest, a glowing beacon of white fluff and neat pigtails.

“What?” he huffed. “She’s my _wife_. She’s hot.”

“Well duh,” Wes grinned, and Soul pinked adorably. “That’s gotta be how Melly came to be, right?”

He spluttered and attempted to regain his cool while the baby tucked under his chin sighed contently. He was spared any further teasing when Maka lead her father in and passed the baby between them – Spirit was all wide blue eyes and cooes, snuggling his grandbaby into his arms and whimpering childishly over how positively precious she looked in her birthday dress.

Soul puffed out his chest and grinned at his partner. “Told you she looked good.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Maka laughed, but kissed him all the same. “Cake time. I’ll grab–”

He grabbed her arm before she had the chance to scurry off again. She raised a brow at him and he marched ahead of her, all long strides and getting full use out of his more impressive stature.

“I’ll get the candles and cake!” he called; Wes watched Maka furrow her brows and he shrugged his shoulders. “You get Black*Star out of the living room.”

Spirit continued to go gaga over his granddaughter while Maka turned to face Wes and shook her head. He could read exhaustion in her eyes, a sleepy set of her determined brows, and saw nothing but a blinding respect for his sister-in-law. Maka was a hard worker, a great wife for his brother, but she was also a new mother and a teacher at the same time. He respected that.

“I know he’s trying to help,” she began, “but somehow I still think I got the short end of the stick here.”

“I can get Black*Star?” he offered.

She laughed sluggishly. “No way. I wouldn’t wish that fate upon anyone. Could you grab the video camera, though? Papa will have a fit if we don’t record her blowing out her first candles.”

“… But she’s turning one. Shouldn’t there only be one candle?”

Maka heaved a sigh. “That’s what I said.”

Something told him he shouldn’t question it. Maybe it was the decidedly exhausted look in her eyes. Maybe it was the way she ran her fingers through her hair and fiddled with a stray bobbypin. It definitely could’ve been the way she groaned under her breath and trudged down the hall like a soldier going into battle.

He found the camcorder sitting on the edge of the counter and fiddled around with the buttons until it sprung to life. He watched (more like spied on) his brother as he shuffled his way around the comically huge cake he’d gotten for Mel, complete with pastel flowers and ribbon-clad skulls. It was both adorable and horrific, and Wes wasn’t sure if he’d ever understand Death City’s aesthetics.

Soul seemed to fit right at home, though. He almost didn’t even wince at the massive skull painted on the top tier of the cake. Impressive.

“Old man,” Soul called. “Make yourself useful and put her in her high chair.”

“ _Soul_!” Wes scolded.

“Lazy good-for-nothing,” Spirit called back in a suspiciously fond tone, ambling over and sliding Melody into her chair and tucking her in safely. He smooshed a sappy kiss onto her face and brushed a thumb over her cheek.

Wes really didn’t understand Death City. Especially when Black*Star came racing back in, balloons static clinging to him like dryer sheets and Maka hurrying after him, trying to untangle one of the ribbons from her earring.

He really didn’t think things could get any stranger.

He was wrong, of course, when Soul began to light the numerous candles on the cake and misjudged the placement of his arm, because then there was a flame catching on his sleeve and Soul gave a mighty squawk. The match scrambled across the room and Spirit stomped it out, eyes wide. Soul flailed, arms flying every which way as he attempted valiantly to wave his arm out.

Melody giggled and roared, fingers curling and arms up in the air. Wes almost laughed – the little darling thought her daddy was playing dragons, when in reality he’d managed to catch his nice button up shirt on fire.

Wes held the camera and watched in barely contained horror as Maka sprinted toward the fridge, jammed the ice maker open, and lobbed ice cubes at his little brother. She did nothing more than pelt his back. Tsubaki, bless her heart, scurried over to the sink, grabbed a glass and filled the cup to the brim while her partner fell on his ass and laughed so hard he cried, balloons squeaking and popping beneath his godly weight.

“FFFF–”

“NO SWEARING IN FRONT OF THE BABY!” Someone screamed – it might’ve been Maka. Wes wasn’t sure, but it was definitely one of the girls… or Black*Star, but somehow he doubted Black*Star was capable of coherent speech.

Tsubaki galloped over like a majestic gazelle and dumped the contents of her cup over Soul’s arm. The flame fizzled out, his sleeve sizzled and Soul groaned aloud, cursing faulty matches and the ocean of candles and not once taking the rightful blame for the catastrophe.

Big blue eyes peered up at his burnt sleeve. “Dada?”

Maka gasped from the corner of the kitchen, lip quivering. Black*Star sobered and sat straight up, expression hopeful. Tsubaki burst into tears, the joint stress of watching one of her oldest friends catch on fire and the elation of hearing her goddaughter’s voice too much for her. Wes lowered the camera and gaped at his brother, who was staring at his daughter, stuffed in her high chair and poofy dress threatening to break through her plastic restraints.

It was a good thing fire couldn’t kill a dragon, or else Soul might not have lived to hear his daughter’s first words.


End file.
